She was a cute little brunette in cut offs.

Tight ass, perky tits, big brown eyes. Definitely Asian. I'd bank on Japanese.

Jon didn't want to pick her up. Said she'd be trouble.

Of course, I brought up that I was paying for half the trip, but fighting with him was pointless. It always, always ended in a stalemate. Until one of us manned up and caved. This time, it was his turn to roll over. To cave.

I guess we should've known better than picking up a hot piece of jailbait like her. Girls like her are trouble. Mark my words. Girls whose eyes are that bright and wild, girls who have the balls to walk around near naked down a stretch of rapist-trucker highway and giggle at you, fucking giggle at you, when you tell them how dangerous it is.

Because they like the danger. It reminds them of themselves, their mothers, fathers, first boyfriends, sisters. Whoever gave them a taste for danger, they should be locked up forever.

Hers was a biker with an unusual choice of body art.

"What's he look like again?"

"Tall, muscular build, and tattooed."

"What kind?" Jon was really the brains, as much as I'd hate to admit it. I hadn't even thought to ask.

"He's covered in sunflowers." She giggled. Fucking teenagers.

Up close, I could see she was younger than I had first thought. She didn't look a day over fifteen, if that. But that face…look up heartbreaker in the dictionary and you'll see her face, at least her eyes.

She studied me intently.

"I like your ink, Mr…?"

"You can call me Morgan."

"I'm Fujiko. But you can call be Fuu."

I looked over to Jon, waiting for him to speak.

"I'd sooner call you foolish."

"I'm not foolish." It was weird, but after awhile traveling together, I could tell when he had something to say, as rarely as that was.

"Anyone who chooses to hitchhike in this area, of all places, is extremely foolish."

Jon's eyes flashed in the mirror. Behind his frames, I swear I could see the pissed-off-ness radiating in waves.

"God, you're not my Dad or anything. I can do what I want."

"I'm not preventing you from doing so. I'm simply pointing out that you are either incredibly naïve or reckless."

"I wasn't even talking to you." She hunkered down in the backseat, pouting.

"Y'know," I said, turning to look at her again. "They call shorts like those coochie-cutters."

"Ew! You're worse than him!"

The way she pointed at Jon, nail disrupting the back of his silky hair, seemed so remarkably juvenile I forced out a cough to disguise my laughter.

"So, where's this sunflower-tattooed biker of yours?"

"If I knew, I'd be there, genius."

Jon laughed, temporarily gaining her favor back.

"She's pretty clever, hm, Morgan?"

I scowled at him, instead of responding.

"Are you two like, brothers?"

"No. No relation."

"College buddies?"

I laughed.

"Yeah, I'm totally a college graduate. Jon, here, he went to Princeton."

"Seriously?"

"Motherfucking Princeton."

"Why does she need to know that, Morgan?"

"She was just asking, dude. It's no big deal."

He was silent. I leaned away, on the window, and tried to sleep considering it was roughly 2 in the goddamned morning.

Fuu curled up and slept, catlike, in the backseat. Jon drove, seemingly immune to the exhaustion.

Half an hour later, he'd gotten us all checked in, into a dingy, filthy motel. Our room had two beds. Fuck.

Fuu looked at both of us strangely.

"You only got one room."

"You didn't give me any money."

"Well, where am I going to sleep?"

"I only paid for two people. You can sleep in the car, or sneak through the back door and sleep here."

She bit her bottom lip, confused and adorable. Eventually, she turned and walked away, towards the back entrance.

"Room 106," Jon called to her.

Once she was out of earshot, I turned to him, unable to contain just how pissed I was at him.

"Two beds?"

"Two beds."

"She'll be sleeping on the floor? Or with you?"

"You'll be sleeping with me."

"She gets her own bed?"

"And you get to share one. With me."

I leaned in and kissed him, there in full view of whoever happened to be out at 2:30 in the morning.

I wanted to say thank you, or something else stupid like that but I couldn't think of a good way to say it without seeming clingy and needy.

See, thing is, we'd slept together before. Once, at the very beginning. We'd only been traveling two days and stopped for the first time.

It was a motel, much like this one, but it had one bed. Not quite a queen-sized, but bigger than a double.

We had gone to bed in silence. Facing different ways, not looking at each other. After an hour, sure Jon was asleep, a leaned over and stroked his cheek, light and gentle. It was so different from anything I did to him when he was awake.

He had turned his head, kissed my palm. He hadn't been sleeping at all. In a flurry of movement the sheets were thrown aside and we fought for dominance

God. That mouth of his.

He grabbed my hand and tugged me from my memories into the hotel room. He was on me in an instant, feeling my goosebumped skin beneath my red plaid flannel and tasting my neck, lips, biting my collarbone.

But we pulled away and separated when we heard her knock. I went to the bathroom to collect myself, calm the bright blush on my face and fix my hair. He stayed to answer the door.

"You want your own room next time, you pay me."

He was explaining the conditions, his conditions, for traveling with him. He'd done the same thing with me, except for the first rule. He never told me there was an option other than sharing a room. Not that I would've taken it.

"You'll work when we choose to stay somewhere for more than a night."

She sat on the bed, looking too much like a doll.

"If we're going to find this Sunflower-Biker, we're expecting reimbursement."

At this, she looked nervous and sat up, removing her shirt.

"Not, not, not like that." It was funny seeing Jon so clearly unsettled.

"What kind of reimbursement? I don't have much to offer…well, except…"

"Except what?" I was eager to hear what else she had to give. Jon and I weren't exactly interested in the pleasures her teenage body had to offer. I mean, I'd fuck her and Jon probably would too, but it's not like that'd buy gas and food.

"My father's will. If we can get to California before the end of the month I can get my inheritance."

"Is that where you're from?"

"Yeah. Cali girl all the way!"

"So, is that where your biker is from?"

"I think so."

"So that's where we're going."

She lay back and nodded sleepily. When her eyes closed, Jon removed his navy blue shirt. I looked at Fuu and I could see her eyes open a slit.

Willing to give a show, I pulled off mine too. Jon and I both had spectacular builds, real thin and tightly muscled. Jon had broader shoulders, and was a little taller, but I had a longer torso.

He really is intensely good looking. He was pale, really pale, with these crazy grey eyes. They were crazier when he took off his glasses and you could really see just how much they caught the light.

Me, I was just a tan mutt. Little of this, little of that. He was purebred, but I never asked what. Something about him seemed cold. Nordic. Like he was a Viking. Me, I was just a tan orphan with nappy hair. And cheap tattoos.

He had a tattoo of his own. I found it when we first met.

It had been a bar brawl, him and me in a stalemate, which is how we would always ended up. We gradually made our way outside, both pulling out our knives. Mine caught him in a jab to the right, just past his hipbone.

I only caught his shirt and his jeans, but as I pulled away I saw a faint bit of ink. Below his belly button and to the right, he had a diamond made of four diamonds together. Or, try to picture a diamond with an X dividing it into four smaller diamonds.

It's hard to describe.

That fight, we decided to flee from. Of course, the cops ad been called and we both needed to run.

He gave me a ride and I had no idea why then. I get now that he did it because he respects me. Because I'm closer to being his equal, at least in combat, than anyone else he's met.

Jon's got something else too. He wears a greenish-brown leather buckle bracelet on his left wrist, and underneath it he's got some Japanese nonsense. He told me it means 'benevolence.' I laughed.

I've got my own share of bodywork. Both ears pierced, two plain bands on both forearms and both shins, outline of a triangle on my left shoulder blade, and a green and yellow zigzag on my right bicep.

Fuu's got something too. I saw it when she pulled off her shirt. Just below the band of the pink bra she wore, on her thin, pale ribs, she's got a cute little squirrel. I made a mental note to ask her about it.

She mimed sleep, slowing her breathing deliberately, faking a light snore. Sure, she was pretty good, but Jon and me knew she was still awake. She was waiting to see if we said anything. Revealed any great secrets.

I motioned silently for the door, cigarette between my fingers. He smoked expensive, black, slim cigarillos. The kind that always looked classy. The kind that were twelve bucks a pack.

I smoked whatever was cheap. Usually Basics. Disgusting, but strangely tasty.

As soon as the door closed he was on me again. Kissing me hard and desperate. His arms all over and his hands feeling my body, clearly glad we'd both left our shirts in the room.

In these moments, closer to him than I've ever been, I can't stop thinking.

We've only known each other a couple of days. I love him already.

We both carry guns.

We're traveling with the kind of girl who gets guys like us killed.

He smells like the rain. Like the cleanest, bluest river ever. Like ice.

I don't want her to know about us yet. I don't know why.

We pulled apart and it felt like waking up. Groggy, refreshed but still confused as, like I didn't know what was real anymore. One look in his eyes and I knew that's what my world would become.

I loved it.

He flicked open his silver lighter. Zippo, not a knock off, and engraved with his father's initials. I didn't have to assume. I just knew somehow.

We leaned in, letting the ends of our cigarettes kiss and catch fire together. Just like us.

We were calm and cool on the outside. Him, way more so than me. But when we bumped together, fire, instantly. We'd fight. A lot. More than anyone else.

But somehow, me a high school drop out, and criminally lazy, I was his, ivy league graduate, and clinical overachiever, equal. Ever battle was a stalemate. So to speak.

Physically we were evenly matched. Forever and always.

'Course, I could wipe the floor with him when it came to dancing. Guy has no rhythm. But I didn't find that out until later.